


Dark Dreams

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Nightmare, Nightmare Fics, the oc is not mine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty has some nightmares. Just a couple short drabbles about them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tulips

Scotty was walking through a field of bright orange tulips. It was a beautiful day, the sky cloudless blue, and a pleasantly cool wind blowing through the air. He caught his foot on something and looked down to see a root wrapped around the toe of his shoe. He tried to pull it out, but another one caught his heel. He tried to step back, to slip his foot out of the shoe, but the roots were slithering up his legs, holding him in place. The flowers were starting to make eerie whistling sounds, and that only exacerbated the effect. The roots were waist high now, pulling him down towards the earth. Dark clouds started to swirl above him in the sky, and thunder crackled. Shoulder height. His fingers were sunk deep into the rich soil, clenching for something to hold onto. Neck height. The flowers were shrieking ear-piercingly. Over his jaw and into his mouth. They were choking him from the inside, blocking the airflow to his lungs. No sight now. He's pressed flat to the earth, crushing flowers beneath him, and they're growing over his back, sprouting soft buds and leaves. Covering him, and he's dying, being consumed by the tulips.  
The last thing he hears is screaming. 


	2. Nothing Makes Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for my L-Anon's prompt on my tumblr, imagineteenagescotty: A dream where nothing makes sense.

Scotty looked around helplessly at the people all around him-they seemed huge in comparison to him. The one directly in front of him leaned down, looking him in the eye, and he backed off quickly before realizing that it was Elle. His Elle, but giant. She held her hand out for him, beckoning, and he cautiously walked forward, stepping onto it as gently as he could. It felt strange, and even stranger once she stood, lifting him what felt like a hundred feet in the air. He looked around him, seeing the other people, trying to recognize others, but every single one had a face completely blank of features, just flat white. He felt the wind start to buffet him as she started to walk, and sat down carefully.  
Eventually, they arrived at a house, but it was his size. She knelt down again and he jumped to the ground uncertainly, looking up at her for guidance. She smiled, waving him on, and he cautiously entered, finding the door unlocked. It was a near-perfect replica of a cottage he used to know, with the exception of there being occasional red stains on the walls. He looked back through the open door and saw her, his size, chewing on a short stalk of grass. She spat it out quickly, smiling and coming in close to hug him. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She whispered sweet nothings against his ear, pushing him slowly backwards towards a wall. He stumbled over something on the floor, falling backwards with her on top of him, kissing fiercely.  
Suddenly, she drew a knife from somewhere-her sleeve, he thought-and seemed to bring it down towards his chest, but that couldn’t be right, because she was the one going limp and falling awkwardly to the floor, the one looking down in surprise at the hole in her stomach. He scrambled up, leaning over her, reaching into his pocket for a phone that wasn’t there. He put his hands over the gaping wound, seeing them stained red, trying desperately to keep the gash closed enough, stop her from losing blood too quickly- and her head’s flopping backwards, her eyes misting over, him shaking and sobbing but he can’t let go, can’t take his hands off of her. He physically can’t, some irresistible force is holding them there, and soon there’s a sprig of green flowing from the gash, poking a hole in the flow of red. It grows quickly, binding his hands tightly to her, sprouting leaves and offshoots and flowers, wrapping around her body and up his arms and he can’t get free of it and it’s at his torso wrapping painfully tight he hears a crack, feels it- a broken rib? Two?- and up and down his body, he can’t move at all now, paralyzed, bound to the girl he loves who is now dead. There’s a vine covering his head now, gagging him, clenching shut his jaw, covering his eyes, poking its way down his throat.  
He snaps awake at the moment of suffocation, sitting up sweating, touching her everywhere in the bed next to him, making sure she’s okay you’re okay everything’s fine no one’s hurt shhh baby shhh it’s okay go back to sleep and it’s her talking quietly into his ear, calming him down, leaning him gently back onto the bed. She strokes his hair and kisses him softly and tells him to sleep now, love, and because she does, he can.


End file.
